Suffering the Storm

At 1:30am Sunday morning my dad passed away. Yesterday was a great big party at my house and today was the memorial.

The memorial was the hardest thing I have ever been through. This whole thing has been the hardest thing I have ever been through. I have been through some dark moments in my life. I have had moments of depression where I was just sad for no reason and all I want to do now is just throw a brick at my younger me and tell her that things could be a million times worse. And I know even this, the death of my father, is not the worst that has happened to people, but it is the worst that has happened to me and I can’t stand it.

Half the time I stare at the wall like I am going to make some sense of what has happened. The other half of the time I am crying or trying to tell myself this isn’t real. How could this be real? How is it possible that everything my daddy has been through, this is what does him in? And how is it possible that the man I thought was invincible is gone and will never come back. I will never hear him laugh again. I will never fuss at him for bothering me. I will never again tell him something that happened. He will never hug me again and tell me that my speeding ticket was not my fault and that the cops were just out to get me.

I just moved into a brand new house with my family. We haven’t even made the first payment. The house is in my daddy’s name and now we have no idea what is going to happen. There is a possibility that we will lose the home. But I feel it in my heart that this is home and no one will take that away from my family and me. This is where my dad wanted us and this is where he plans for us to stay.

I feel so broken. And for some reason I am trying to fill my dads shoes, trying to take care of the family myself when I know that we all have to come together and take care of one another.

My dad was my hero. He had been through so much in his life. He was hit by a car, survived the abuse of his parents, broke his neck, and fought his way through life. He loved his knives, guns, and guitars. But most of all, he loved his family. Someone told me that my dad told them just the other week that my mom, brother, and me were his world. We were his everything, and I love that he told someone that, someone that would tell us.

I don’t know how people get through this kind of stuff. Maybe it’s just having others that need you that helps you keep going. I thought when something this bad happened to me I would just sleep through it. I can’t even sleep. I fall asleep and wake up in a panic. I have decided to go back to work tomorrow, but I don’t know if I can actually do it. I don’t know if I am ready.

Right now I just want a time machine to go back to before everything happened. Before the old house was torn down and we had to live in the rental for 6 weeks. Back to a time when my daddy was alive and well. Back when my family was still whole.

What Does it Mean to be Human?

I was listening to a song the other day on the radio.  It is a song by Christina Perri and the song is called Human.  The lyrics that stand out is the line that says “But I’m only human.”  This got me thinking, what does it mean to be human?  Do we even know what it means anymore?

Being human once meant that we stopped and helped a stranger in need.  Sometimes we would put our own safety aside for the safety of others.  We would stop by our neighbors house and check on them, because there were only you and the neighbor for 5 miles.  When someone new moved into the neighborhood, we would go welcome them and get to know them.  At one point, no one was a stranger, because no one gave them time to be a stranger.

But did this make us human?

Now days we fly by a woman stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire because “we don’t have time.”  People will walk by a child who seems to be wandering around without their parent.  I have lived in the same place for 11 years and I don’t know a single neighbor, and they live a few feet away from me.  I meet strangers everyday and avoid eye contact in case they try to talk to me.

Does this make us human?

Again I ask the question, do we even know what it means to be human?

It seems that human has become the word for cruelty.  The definition of human is flesh and blood, with great minds that are used to destroy the few good things we have in this life.

I am not saying that every person is evil, but we seem to have lost our backbones.  We have become a world of invisible bubbles.  We try our best not to get close to one another and we avoid eye contact.  Some people walk around with headphones covering their ears as a “do not disturb” sign.

You see stories everyday about animals who help other animals, or animals who seem more human then people.  It seems that long ago we decided that the word human meant kindness, trust, reliable, and love.  We have lost something over the years.  When an animal is called more human than a human…maybe we should really rethink what we are doing with our lives.  Maybe we should start being more like animals.  The animals who will risk their lives to save their human owner, or the animals that risk their lives to save one another.  You see the stories all the time about how great animals are.  I am tired of seeing stories of great animals.

Our newspapers and magazines should be flooded with great people!  Not criminals.  We should hear about people who pulled over and helped a single mother change a tire so she can get her sick kid to the doctor.  We should hear stories about people who sat with an old lady because she had no family to help her when she fell.

Yeah, we hear those stories sometimes.  But we should hear them everyday.  When people think of humans we think of criminals.  Killers and rapist.  We think of the mothers who kill their kids and the fathers who leave their families.  The world is so full of hate and it’s all because of people.

Maybe we should stop being such humans and become animals…because right now the animals are the only ones holding on to hope, love, and kindness.  Where is our courage?